Long Time Coming
by Ron Weasley2
Summary: Rating for language and slight innuendoes. Ron and Hermione have been best friends for six years, but when Ron must deal with what no brother should, will the underlying emotions and unspoken feelings that have been a long time coming reveal themselves?


Disclaimer: I own nothing worthwhile. Or worth this disclaimer in the first place.

A/N: One-shot. Deals a little more with angst than usual for me. I hope I don't disappoint you.

"DAMMIT!"

Ron Weasley hurled the gnome as far as it would go. He watched it soar over the fence and knew Fred and George would have been that close to congratulating him for doing something right—had they been there.

He seemed to have a knack for doing the wrong thing. At last count, his mum, Ginny, _and_ Hermione all weren't talking to him. And it was all for the same reason.

He couldn't forgive Percy. He just…couldn't. Walking out on the family. Shutting the door on his mum. Ignoring his father. Calling his best friend nutters. And people thought he _owed_ it to Percy to hear his explanation? He didn't _need_ to hear his explanation. He knew it was because Percy was a stuck-up git who didn't deserve to be in his family. Hell, _Harry _had more of a right to be in it than he did.

And now the three most important girls in his life weren't speaking to him. Mrs. Weasley because she thought he was tearing the family apart. Ginny because she _knew_ he was tearing the family apart. And Hermione because she thought he was being completely unreasonable. And of course they were all under the same roof.

He degnomed the garden with such vigor that they didn't come back for a month.

An hour later, he collapsed in a chair by the garden, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He was too afraid to go back in the house. Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex could do a number on someone.

As he stared into space, his immediate problems came into focus.

He didn't understand how his parents and his sister could forgive him so easily…or at least be willing to. Charlie, Bill, Fred, and George felt the same way as Ron. Harry—well, Ron knew he'd never dare say a word against anyone in the Weasley family. In some ways, he felt like Harry was more of a brother to him than anyone. He knew how…horrible that sounded, but he was two years younger than the twins, and Ginny was a girl. As they'd grown up, he couldn't share the same things with her that he could with Harry.

He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through the bright red shock of hair on his head that was growing faster than Mrs. Weasley cared for. He'd had a headache ever since Percy had walked out on them. He didn't want to miss him. Sometimes he truly thought he didn't. But then he'd look at the picture he'd cut out of the Daily Prophet when they went to Egypt the summer before third year, and he'd miss him—just for a second. Then he'd remember the nights his mum cried and the letter he'd written Ron, and the anger would come back, as fiercely as ever.

He had just decided to get up and try to brave the perils of the indoors when he heard footsteps behind him. He whirled around to find Hermione walking out of the house towards him.

Things had changed between him and his bushy-haired best friend since the Department of Mysteries. As an older brother, he generally felt protective of any girl close to him. He realized how sexist that sounded, but it was just his nature. But now, things were different. He'd realized, that night, how close he'd come to losing her forever. He'd sort of come to accept it with Harry—not that it didn't hurt like hell every day, but he hadn't realized how vulnerable she was.

He'd also noticed how she'd…matured. He couldn't deny that he secretly liked how wild her hair was or how nice her smile was. He wanted her to kiss him on the cheek again, like she did before his Quidditch games or after Harry left the last day of term.

"Ron," she said tiredly, snapping him out of his stupor. "I…I can't believe I have to tell you this…"

A sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that had been there ever since Sirius died intensified to the point where he was worried he might throw up.

"What is it?" he asked her croakily. His legs were shaking, but he refused to sit down.

"There's been an attack."

Those four words were the ones he dreaded, ever since the bloody war had started. He remembered the feeling he'd gotten when his father had been attacked. Visions of his brothers, his sister, his parents lying lifelessly on a hospital bed attacked him, and he sank back onto the chair, closing his eyes against the inevitable doom.

"Who—who was—"

He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, and he felt her cool hand against his face, bringing to light a thousand new sensations he'd never even thought were possible.

"It was Percy, Ron. They attacked him at his flat, in London."

"No," he whispered. "They wouldn't—he's just—"

A second passed, and her arms were suddenly around him. He clung to her like a lifeline, as if she were the only thing keeping him alive.

When he looked back on it, he realized she had been.

Ron stood with Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny at St. Mungo's, looking down at the still form of Percival Weasley. His face was slashed with a deep cut, and there was a bruise around his left eye. His leg had been broken, and he hadn't woken up yet.

"Are you OK, Ron?" Hermione asked quietly, looking at him.

"I missed him," he said abruptly, not taking his eyes off of his brother.

"I know," she replied. He looked at her for a second and knew it, in an instant.

He—

At that moment, sounds of someone muffling their tears filled the air, and they all looked over at Fred, who was alternating between looking ashamed and looking horribly, horribly hopeless.

"I can't think of him, can't remember him before this happened," George said suddenly, not even acknowledging that his brother was crying. It was better that way.

"He's going to wake up," Ginny said from beside Ron. She looked at him.

"Isn't he?"

Wordlessly, he put his arm around his little sister. He'd never have all the answers, but he'd done what he could for her as they were growing up.

And, inevitably in these damned war that left no one out, the time had finally come when he had nothing to say to make her feel better.

No one said anything.

Two days passed—enough time for Bill, Charlie, and Harry to have been notified. As usual, Harry blamed himself for it, and apologized to every Weasley a hundred times over.

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley put an arm around his shoulder. "No one blames you for this. How could we?"

"It's my damned scar that brought this on all of you," Harry muttered. "I…I'm sorry I did this to your family, Mrs. Weasley."

"Nonsense, Harry," she said briskly, something of her old self returning that hadn't been seen since the attack. "You're a part of my family."

Ron saw a tear escape from Harry before he swiped at it angrily. But even Ron couldn't miss the look of happiness that passed over his emerald green eyes before feelings of remorse almost immediately replaced it.

Hermione had stayed with Ron. She was scheduled to go home before term started, but she said she wouldn't hear of it.

"I want to stay with you, Ron," she looked at him with huge brown eyes, and he tried to resist, tried to insist that she go home. But he couldn't do it.

After that, the days passed by him in very much the same way. He woke up, tried to eat breakfast, and went to St. Mungo's. He stayed there all day. He could tell his brothers were feeling just as guily as he was. Why didn't they forgive Percy when they had the chance? What would happen if he never woke up?

"Ron," Hermione said gently, kneeling by his chair. "Why don't we go outside and get some fresh air?"

He shook his head, looking at his brother as if the power of his gaze would be enough to wake him up.

"Please? For me?"

He groaned inwardly. Did she know that he couldn't possibly resist that?

They walked outside in silence. But it was comfortable silence, unlike the usual angry silence after a particular blazing row.

"You're not eating," she said after they'd been outside for ten minutes without a word.

He shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

"If you can bother me about it, I can bug you," she replied. "Everyone's worried about you."

"Including you?" he asked without looking at her.

"Me most of all, I think," she answered. He could feel her looking at him.

"What if he doesn't wake up?"

"What?"

"What if he doesn't wake up, Hermione?" Ron asked, finally voicing what had been running through his mind since that night in the Burrow. "And his last memory is…of me telling him to bugger off?"

"Ron…"

"We weren't ever really that close, growing up," Ron rushed on, afraid that if he stopped, he'd never say any of this again. "And I—I think it was my fault. Because making fun of him was easier than really getting to know him, you know? I wonder…if he ever hated me. For what I said to him. Like I hated him for what he did to us. But…he wanted to apologize, wanted to be a part of our family again, and I wouldn't let him."

"Ron, this isn't your fault," Hermione stood in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Percy loves you, Ron, and he knows that you love him. There's no point in regretting things now, because everything's said and done. But Percy knows that your family loves him, and…he's going to make it, Ron. I know it."

Ron looked down at her. Her brown hair was tangled and even more wild than usual. Her deep brown eyes were filled with concern, regret, and shock. He was suddenly hit with a strong…_something_. A feeling that was irrefutable but that he couldn't place.

Which led to his next action.

He wouldn't know what came over him for years after that…but suddenly, the feeling of her hands on his shoulders was too much, and he slowly, softly, brushed his lips against hers.

He felt her jump at the contact. He was surprised at himself, but when she stood on her tip-toes to kiss him again, he abandoned what little reasoning he had left. Their lips met again and everything…Percy, Harry, his mum, You-Know-Who…was forgotten.

"Ron, Hermione, he's awake!"

The sound of Ginny's voice made the two jump apart like startled deer. Ron glanced at his best friend, who he'd happened to have just kissed, before the meaning of Ginny's words really hit him. Without another word, he ran after her, leaving Hermione alone to navigate St. Mungo's.

He was really awake—Ron was relieved beyond words to finally see his bright blue eyes. Everyone was crowded around the bed, his mum fussing over him as usual between crying and hugging him.

The room suddenly seemed to grow quiet, and everyone looked at Ron, including Percy. He felt gawky and awkward, suddenly unsure of what to say to the brother he'd known for 15 years.

"I _am_ sorry, Ron," Percy said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm sorry too," Ron replied gruffly, coming to stand at the foot of his bed, beside Fred and George.

"Oh, Arthur, isn't it wonderful?" Mrs. Weasley sobbed as her husband put an arm around her. "The whole family's together again!"

-Hermione POV-

The days after Percy finally woke up were some of the longest Hermione had ever lived through. He wasn't allowed to move back to the Burrow yet, but Mrs. Weasley ordered all of her children, Harry, and Hermione back there anyway, to "let the boy get some air"…although that didn't stop her from staying by his bedside every minute of the day and getting into a fight with the doctor when he suggested that she go home.

She couldn't remember a time when she was more confused or alone. It was entirely possible, of course, that Ron kissed her because he was upset and she was conveniently there. But…

She wouldn't let herself entertain the other option because it was bloody impossible, that's what it was. She had been dropping hints for _years_, and if he hadn't acted on them by now, he obviously didn't feel _that way _about her.

Which was why she never said anything to anyone—Harry, Ginny, Viktor—about the kiss. She assumed it was because she didn't want to embarrass Ron, but she also felt a lump in her throat every time she and Ginny were sitting in the living room, doing their homework, and she got a notion to tell Ginny. It just hurt too much.

And this, of course, led to her next move.

Avoiding. She simply avoided Ron. It was almost too easy, really—she just claimed to have homework to do whenever he started to strike up a conversation with her. By the time he realized something was wrong, they would have graduated Hogwarts. Harry and Ginny obviously realized something was wrong, but they wisely chose not to question her judgement and instead started to keep to themselves, as Ron spent more and more time in his room, and Hermione in Ginny's.

The night before they were to return to Hogwarts, Hermione found sleep all but impossible. For the end of August, it was incredibly hot, and this, coupled with everything that had been on her mind for the past month, made her toss and turn.

Finally, she decided to go downstairs and find something to drink. She'd heard about Mrs. Weasley's herbal teas, and they seemed like her best option at the time.

Careful not to wake Ginny, she tiptoed out of the room and down the three flights of stairs to the kitchen, which was (thankfully) dark. She found the light and turned it on—

"Hermione."

The sound of his voice made her shiver, and she very much regretted wearing the thin piece of cotton her mother had called a nightgown. Slowly, afraid of what would happen next, she turned around to face Ron.

She hadn't properly looked at him in days. He always made her knees deliciously weak, with the bright red shock of hair that must be incredibly soft, his crystal-clear blue eyes that always seemed to see right through whatever she was hiding, and his lips…which she knew from experience were soft and full…and they tasted like chocolate.

_Not _now, _Hermione_.

"Oh, hi, Ron," she said breezily, as if she hadn't ignored him for the past month. "What are you doing up this late?"

"Don't do this, Hermione," he walked over to her and she held her ground. Would she let him intimidate her? No.

"Don't do what, Ron?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. Bring it on. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You bloody well know what I'm talking about," he practically growled. "You've been ignoring me ever since…well…you know."

"Ever since you kissed me, Ron?" she tried to forget about how it hurt her to think about it. She was Hermione Granger, and she wasn't going to let this little thing affect her as it was. The only problem was…it was one of the biggest things that had ever happened to her. "Really, it's fine, you know."

"What's fine?"

"I know you only kissed me because you were upset and lonely and I was there. And it's fine, really. I…I would have done the same thing to you."

"You think so? You think that's why? Well, I'm not upset _or_ lonely, and I followed _you_ down here."

She had only a moment to be confused before the thing that she'd been dreaming about happened again.

He kissed her.

She closed her eyes, trying to savor this moment. Who knew if it would—

_What_ had he just said?

It took every ounce of self discipline to pull away, but she did.

"What did you just say?"

"I said…damn, I…"

He ran his fingers through his hair helplessly.

"Don't swear, Ron."

"Will you shut up for _one minute_?" he said angrily.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I don't want to stand around while you dig around in your emotional grab-bag—_which_, by the way, must be smaller than a teaspoon—and try to figure out just _what_ it is that you want to say to me, when I don't even think you know!"

"Oi, you two, shut it, will you?" Ginny stumbled blearily down the stairs, rubbing her eyes. "Some people are trying to sleep."

"Yeah, and apparently being at the top of the house doesn't make you any quieter," Harry yawned, right behind Ginny.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, glaring at Ron. "I was just leaving."

"No, you weren't," Ron grabbed her arm. She spun around, eyes flashing with anger.

"Let go of me this instant, Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"Not until you hear what I have to say to you."

"Ron, not here," she muttered furiously, trying her best to wrench her arm from his grip, but it was impossible. "Really, don't you have anything better to do than embarrass me in front of my friends?"

"If you'd just let me _explain_, then I'd let you go."

"Oh, thank you, I'm so glad that I need your permission," she retorted sarcastically. "Will you just get it over with?"

He stared at her. And she stared at him. And Harry and Ginny stared at them.

But the words wouldn't come.

He wanted them to. He willed them to. _I love you_—it was that simple. Three words. Three syllables. She was his best friend.

So why was it this hard?

"Ron, come on," she said impatiently.

He opened his mouth—

And the words stayed where they were, halfway between the place they'd been for the past month and her.

"It's nothing," he mumbled, releasing her and walking past them. "Forget it."

"Ron."

Her voice was different. He wanted to turn back and tell her everything.

But he couldn't.

He ignored her and continued climbing.

"RON!"

Suddenly, somehow, she was in front of him, her eyes flashing and her hair flying behind her. He had to resist the urge to take her right there on the bloody staircase.

"Don't you dare walk away from me," she hissed. "Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell," he said monotonously, trying to walk past her. "Just forget about it."

"It isn't nothing, Ron, and you know it isn't. _I_ know it isn't."

"Look, Hermione, I—" he stopped. Had she just said—

"Yo—you _know_?" he stammered in shock. "Who told you?"

"Ron, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what that meant back there," she answered seriously.

"Well, it's just—what's a rocket scientist?" he asked curiously.

"It's a Muggle scientist that—_oh_, don't try to change the subject!" she exclaimed, obviously exasperated. "I can't believe you won't tell me the truth!"

"Like you've done a good job of that yourself!" he snapped back, starting to get angry. Now _this_—this was easy. It wasn't hard, like telling her how he really felt was. This was comfortable and uncomplicated and familiar. He could handle this.

"I cannot _believe_ you're accusing _me_ of our—our problem!"

"How could it be _my _fault? _I_ haven't been the one avoiding it for the past month!"

"If you'd just tell me how you really felt, we wouldn't have this problem, would we?"

"Fine. You want me to tell you how I really feel? I will."

"Yes, thank you!"

"Shut up, Harry," Ron growled before turning back to Hermione. She looked at him expectantly.

"I think you're an infuriating, bossy, know-it-all who thinks she knows how everyone else feels, but it's really her thinking she can dictate to them."

He expected an answer—after all, that's how it worked. He would insult her, and she'd come up with an even better one, and so on and so forth. They had a routine.

But the silence that followed his last statement wasn't the same.

She looked at him for what seemed like ages. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she didn't bother to wipe it away. Finally, she turned around and walked up the stairs.

"You IDIOT."

It was Ginny.

"What…what were you thinking? Telling her that? You were supposed to tell her you loved her, you insufferable _git_."

"She told me to tell her how I really felt."

"You're such a coward," Ginny started the slow, ominous walk towards him. "You're so afraid she'll reject you, or that you won't be good enough for her, or that you think, in your bizarre way, that she likes Viktor or…or Harry or something. The truth is, Ron, that it's you. And it always has been. But there's only so much she can take. And who knows? Maybe tonight was your last chance."

With that, she walked away from him, but before she reached her door, he bolted past her and shoved it open.

Hermione was on her bed, crying. Because of him.

"Hermione…oh, Merlin…I'm sorry," he sat in front of her. "I…I didn't mean what I said."

She said something that was unintelligible.

"What?"

"I said," she repeated, lifting her head up, "that you did mean it."

"No, no, I didn't," he said desperately. "I'm a git, remember? I have the emotional range of a teaspoon."

"I didn't mean that," she replied, looking at him in that way that she had which made him, had she known it, putty in her hands.

"But I do…it's the truth," he brushed a tear away from her face. "Look, Hermione, you've been there for me through everything. I couldn't have made it through the past six years of school without you. And for a while, I thought it was…because…you were my best friend."

He paused, gathering his courage.

"But this summer made me realize something. When I kissed you that night…it wasn't because you were there. It's because you've _always _been there, you know? No matter what. You nagged, yeah, but you respected me and supported me. I can't tell you how much that meant to me. So when we were standing there after Percy woke up, it wasn't really as…earth-shattering when I finally realized that I loved you."

She gasped.

"I think our friendship was always meant to be something more. And I know I blew it tonight. And maybe that was it. Maybe I used up all my chances being the idiot that I am. But I had to tell you. And I don't want anything to change between us. If you don't feel the same…then I guess I'll try to move on. But don't push me away—please."

"Ron," she said weakly. "Ron, I've always loved you. And I always will."

"Really?" he almost didn't believe what he was hearing. "You do?"

She nodded.

"Well then…d'you mind if I—kiss you again?"

He took it as a no when she pressed her lips on his.


End file.
